


Sigil

by hypatia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Cooking, Established Relationship, Hand Feeding, Intimacy, Kinda, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sensuality, Softer than that, Telepathic Sex, Wings, service top!Aziraphale, soft D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 18:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatia/pseuds/hypatia
Summary: “Yes angel,” said Crowley “I can read. You made an ancient, divine sigil, one that once… “ he sputtered for a moment “…once called the prophets of G— to Their service and to know Their will… into a sex toy.”





	Sigil

Crowley woke slowly, warm and comfortable. In his sleep, he’d curled himself around Aziraphale, skin to skin, head pillowed on his shoulder.

“Good morning Angel” he murmured, drowsy, knowing Aziraphale was almost certainly awake.

“Good morning my dear” Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowleys hair, making him purr.

“Would you indulge me for a day?” Aziraphale asked, tugging gently at Crowley’s hair.

“Of course, anything you like Angel.” he mumbled into Aziraphale’s neck.

Aziraphale moved so that he could look Crowley in the eye.

His face communicated, better than words. _I am asking more than you realize. _And Crowley’s responded _Really. Anything._

Crowley broke eye contact to kiss Aziraphale’s neck, sleepily curious what he’d just agreed to.

Aziraphale kissed his forehead in return, continuing to stroke Crowley’s hair with one hand, and brought the other around to caress the skin between Crowley’s shoulder blades.

No, it wasn’t a caress, he was drawing a sigil there. One that, after a moment, Crowley recognized. It was _old_. Times of the prophets old. Crowley suspected that no angel had drawn this symbol in millennia.

It was a form of the sigil that allowed a believer to better understand the will of G--. But Aziraphale had changed… personalized?... it, so that Crowley would feel Aziraphale’s desire. Adapting it like this, whispered a part of Crowley’s mind that was slightly more alert, was a feat of both power and intellect that he hadn’t realized was even possible. He couldn’t think of an angel above nor a demon below who could have replicated it. Clever angel.

Crowley’s mouth fell open and his breath caught as he felt the effect take hold. He was submerged in sensation. It was profoundly intimate. The first thing Aziraphale desired, he _felt-sensed-realized_, was for Crowley to understand completely what the sigil did. It did not, and could not compel, just communicate desire. And even then, he would remove it the moment Crowley asked.

“Yes angel,” said Crowley “I can read. You made an ancient, _divine_ sigil, one that once… “ he sputtered for a moment “…once called the prophets of G— to Their service and to know Their will… into a _sex toy._”

Aziraphale had the grace to look smug.

_Tell me how this feels_

“Don’t worry, you’re not hurting me.”

“That’s not what I asked…”

“But it’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale touched Crowley’s cheek with gentle fingertips. “You’re right of course.”

“You’re curious about this, desire knowledge” Crowley continued. “I can feel anticipation, and no small amount of physical desire.”

“Mmhmm. Anything else?” asked Aziraphale.

“When you’re focused on me, like this… now I think I understand why most of the prophets always seemed to be sleepwalking or ecstatic or both…” Crowley’s voice trailed off.

“Tell me?”

“… Love.” Said Crowley, dazed. “Love like sunlight on my back, like a cool breeze against sweat-soaked ssskin, like the best sorts of dreams. It feels like I have a new sssense like taste or touch but for feeling your desire. It… takes up most of my attention. I feel little sparks of pleasure when your desire is sssatisfied… ” he shook his head, self-conscious about his words slurring and hissing. “It’s.. very intimate. It’s everywhere.”

“This is all right?”

“Yesss’good. I love it angel. I love you. I can feel you want to try sssomething, go ahead, I’m yours.”

Aziraphale explored what he could communicate, both of them acclimating to how it felt through the bond he’d created.

_Touch me… here_

_Let me kiss you… there_

_Close your eyes_

_Feel me touch you… here_

“You aren’t actually touching me there, are you Angel?”

“I’m not.”

“Feels like you are.”

Aziraphale made a quiet, pleased sound and continued.

_Don’t do the next thing I want_

_Kiss me_

“But _I_ want. Can I bite you instead?”

Aziraphale chuckled.

_Take your pick._

Crowley kissed Aziraphale on the mouth, soft as a whisper. Aziraphale made a soft noise and his lips parted slightly. Crowley caught the lower lip between his teeth and tugged. Now he could feel Aziraphale wanting to deepen the kiss, but instead he stopped with a sly smile and laid his head back down on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

_Remember… this scent._

Crowley inhaled. “Garden. Babylon?”

“Yes.”

_Re-experience… this moment._

Crowley’s head rocked back, suddenly dizzy and breathless. “First kiss. I wish you could feel this angel, it’s fantastic.”

“I… “ Aziraphale’s breath caught. “Remember it quite well, I assure you.” He whispered into Crowley’s hair. “Ready to begin our day?”

“_Yes_ angel, please.”

_Kneel next to the bed, there’s a cushion._

Aziraphale settled himself on the edge of the bed, legs on either side of Crowley.

_Don’t speak (tap my leg twice if you wish to stop)_

_Don’t touch yourself_

_Don’t come_

_Use just your mouth_

_Take your time_

_Do as you will_

The sense of Aziraphale’s desire shifted into curiosity and anticipation (and lust).

Crowley slowly kissed his way up the inside of Aziraphale’s thigh, feeling for nuances of desire that he might pick up as he licked or sucked or bit. When he arrived at Aziraphale’s cock, he paused, just breathing warm slow breaths, close to, but not touching. Then when he felt Aziraphale’s desire to be touched peak, he moved his head and kissed his way down the other thigh.

Aziraphale made a soft strangled sound, but the intent of his desire didn’t change.

_Do as you will (within earlier limits)_

Crowley sat back, thinking of sonnets, and looking into Aziraphale’s half closed eyes. He licked his lips slowly and watched pale blue eyes follow the motion. He smiled lazily and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s thigh just inches from his cock. Then, as slowly as he could manage, moved closer. He could feel Aziraphale holding his desire in check. Wondered if he could break that control, and what that might feel like. He slowly licked up the length of Aziraphale cock, ending with his lips just barely touching the tip.

Aziraphale shifted, hunching his body slightly and manifesting his wings. He held himself braced for the extra weight, elbows on his knees, mantling his wings over Crowley.

That this motion mimicked a raptor feeling possessive about its prey wasn’t lost on Crowley, who made an inarticulate noise in the back of his throat as his vision filled with white feathers and he filled his mouth with Aziraphale.

He found himself swaying from the flow of Aziraphale’s desire as he tried to establish a rhythm. 

_Use your hands if you want to_

_Don’t stop_

In minutes, Aziraphale’s hips and wings were shuddering in response to Crowley’s mouth. He was getting close and Crowley was mentally preparing for what an orgasm might feel like through the sigil’s bond.

_Want_

_… not to come yet_

_Stop_

Crowley pulled back, surprised and reeling from the second-hand frustration crashing across their connection.

Aziraphale took a deliberate breath, folded his wings away, and rolled his shoulders. He leaned down and kissed Crowley’s neck, murmuring “Perfect” in his ear. Crowley leaned into the touch.

_Relax_

Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s shoulders, massaging up his neck and around his jaw for a moment. Then he caught Crowley’s chin in both hands and pulled him into a deep kiss, Crowley let his jaw go slack encouraging Aziraphale to do whatever he wished.

_Stand up_

He helped Crowley to his feet and stood himself.

_Go downstairs_

_Make yourself comfortable by my desk_

_Wait for me_

Crowley sensed Aziraphale still wanted his silence, so he simply raised an eyebrow and, standing naked in their bedroom, looked down at himself pointedly.

_Feel me reaching out to touch your bare skin whenever I wish_

“Oh.” Crowley’s eyes unfocussed and he nearly stumbled in response to the sensation.

Aziraphale put out a hand to steady him, and when he was sure of his balance said “Off you go”, and turned to his wardrobe.

The bookshop was much warmer than usual… comfortable for nudity, or even a basking snake. Hints of mid-morning sun shone in through the shop windows. It was dimmer near Aziraphale’s desk, where he’d be hidden from sight. There was another cushion on the floor next to the desk chair.

He paused, considering how much of a brat he was inclined to be in this moment. Rejected the notion. He was enjoying himself entirely too much just now. He knelt and waited.

After a few minutes, Aziraphale appeared, dressed for the warmth in shirt-sleeves and light trousers. He smiled approvingly at Crowley, then went to the front of the shop, unlocked the door, and changed the sign to Open. When he returned to the desk carrying two cups of tea and seated himself, Crowley gave him a look of utter incredulity.

_Tap my leg twice if you want to stop_

Crowley held his gaze and gave a minute shake of his head. Aziraphale leaned down to kiss him.

_Enjoy the tea if you want it_

_Relax here while I work_

Aziraphale turned to the desk, and began going through the accounts. Crowley could still feel his desire, but it was banked for the moment, like embers in a fire.

Crowley lay his head in Aziraphale’s lap and closed his eyes. Occasionally, Aziraphale would run his fingers through his hair, or create the sensation of other more intimate caresses. He found himself both hyperaware of Aziraphale’s touch, but also drifting unaware of his surroundings or the passage of time.

The bookshop door opened.

_Sit up for a moment_

“That’s just lunch arriving,” said Aziraphale. He traced a knuckle along Crowley’s cheekbone, then stood up and went toward the door. There was a brief murmur of conversation, and then the door opened and closed again. Aziraphale returned with a large boxed lunch and sat down on the couch, which had acquired multiple soft blankets.

_Come join me while I eat_

_Make yourself comfortable_

Crowley stood and stretched. After a moment’s consideration, he lay down on the couch with his head in Aziraphale’s lap.

Aziraphale ate his lunch silently, feeding occasional tidbits to Crowley. Sometimes they tasted like what they were, a piece of fruit or cheese, other times they tasted like memories. A bit of bread became one of the oysters they shared centuries ago in Rome. A sip of tea was the first Champagne ever bottled.

They ended up making a game of it. Nothing Aziraphale fed Crowley tasted like what it was, but was it food from a memory or not? Crowley would nod or shake his head and Aziraphale would tell him how clever he was.

The shop door opened again.

_Lie here while I help this customer_

_Don’t cover yourself_

Crowley lay on his side and closed his eyes, listening. He’d never been particularly modest, yet this felt unnervingly exposed. He wished, fleetingly and nonsensically, for his sunglasses. Recognized how ridiculous that was. Pictured being seen like this. Imagined being _shown off _like this_. _Waited for Aziraphale to return.

Aziraphale. Who was _taking his time with a customer. _He led them from one area of the shop to another, never anywhere that Crowley could be seen, but often quite close. Minutes passed. He made _helpful suggestions_. He_ chatted_. Eventually the customer complained of the heat and left.

Aziraphale returned to the couch and sat down at Crowley’s feet.

_Speak if you wish_

“You dragged that out as long as you could.”

“I did.”

“I… enjoyed it.”

“I thought you might.”

_Come here_

_Let me hold you_

Crowley sat up and they rearranged themselves. He settled, curled up sideways in Aziraphale’s lap, his head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He nuzzled and kissed Aziraphale’s neck, but felt too bonelessly relaxed to move even to kiss him on the mouth.

Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley’s ankle and slowly trailed his fingertips up his body, all the way to his cheek. Crowley shuddered, but lay still. Fingers traced his lips, stroked down his neck, and back up into his hair. 

“Mmm angel.”

“Yes my dear.”

_Tell me what you want_

“Please touch me.”

“Of course darling.” Aziraphale shifted his hand.

_Close your eyes_

_Don’t come_

“Angel!”

Aziraphale’s kisses felt like fireworks and flower petals, tasted of honey mead and warm spices. His touch was candlelight and Crowley wanted to drown himself in it. He occasionally caught flashes of what Aziraphale was feeling. Literally felt in his palms Aziraphale’s sensation of touching him, like an echo made skin deep.

Crowley had no idea if it was minutes or hours later when the bookshop door opened again. It was as if his sense of Aziraphale’s desire had entirely replaced his sense of time.

“Let’s play this game again, shall we?” Aziraphale murmured in his ear.

_Move so I can get up_

_Lie back_

He lay down on a memory of ermine, and dug his fingers into the sumptuous fur.

_Lie still_

This time, he had been writhing. Pushing himself against Aziraphale’s palm. Shuddering with the effort to maintain a shred of control while Aziraphale, with considerable skill, and no small success, attempted to make him forget his own name. He wanted nothing more than to drag Aziraphale back onto the couch and press himself against him. Or failing that, to rut into the blankets.

Instead, he lay on his back, utterly still, listening to Aziraphale and the customer come closer, then move away again.

_Feel my hand in your hair, on your cock_

Crowley’s eyes flew open and pressed his lips together to block any of the noises that threatened to escape them. He felt a hand in his hair, pulling his head back, exposing his neck. Another hand stroked his cock with firm, slow strokes. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the texture of the fur, trying and failing to count seconds while listening for the customer’s exit.

_Open your eyes_

Aziraphale was kneeling beside the couch and he did have his hand in Crowley’s hair and he certainly had his hand on Crowley’s cock.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful like this Crowley.”

“Ngk. Let me… oh. Fuck. I need a moment angel.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale sat back and withdrew his hands gently. With a look and a gesture, offered to remove the sigil.

“No. m’good. Just…”

_Take your time_

_Do what you need_

Crowley sat up and rested his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders, grounding himself in the presence of the angel kneeling in front of him. His eyes slowly refocused and he looked around. The light had changed since he’d opened them last.

“It’s evening. I just closed the shop.”

Crowley stared at the ceiling. “The last time I had any notion of what time it was, we were having lunch.” He flexed each joint in turn, starting at his neck, a snake-like reorientation back into his body. Which was solid once more, not simply a dream of desire. “How did you do that last trick?”

Aziraphale gestured toward Crowley’s leg.

Crowley nodded.

_Feel my hand on your knee_

Aziraphale carefully placed his hand over the spot where Crowley could already feel it resting. The sense of desire that he feel something was replaced with the physical sensation.

“You seem to notice it less when my hands are moving. I practiced when we were at my desk earlier.”

Crowley gave him an eloquent look. Aziraphale responded with a heated, self-satisfied little smile. They held eye contact until Crowley leaned forward to press his forehead against Aziraphale’s.

“Seven.” Said Aziraphale putting up his hand to cup Crowley’s cheek.

Crowley drew back puzzled. “Seven?”

“Languages you’ve spoken to me today. Five while I held you earlier. Two more while you lay on the couch.”

Crowley puffed a laugh. “Did I say anything clever? It’s a bit hazy.”

“Endearments, some requests…”

_Begging, _thought Crowley, _that I remember. I think. A bit._

“… snatches of poetry.”

“Poetry?” Crowley’s eyes widened in chagrin.

Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s lips with a thumb, closing his eyes as if savoring something delicious. “Yes. The Song of Songs, as Solomon intended, spoken breathlessly to a lover… Your lips against my collarbone as I touched you…”

“In Hebrew?”

Aziraphale nodded. “As we spoke it in his court. Your accent was always charming.”

An eyebrow quirk, “Are you going to be insufferable about making me lose modern language?”

Aziraphale glanced sideways, failing to suppress a self-satisfied smirk.

Crowley eyed him suspiciously as Aziraphale moved in closer. “_Human _language.” He put his hands on Crowley’s hips and pulled him just a bit forward, and gave him a lingering, appreciative look. “The things you were begging me to do to you just now, in the language of angels…” he leaned in and murmured directly against Crowley’s snake tattoo, “… it was _filthy_.”

“You’re hungry” Crowley realized several minutes later, breaking off a kiss. “I can feel it.”

“I suppose I am. I’d thought to make another meal appear in a bit.”

“No…” said Crowley thoughtfully, shifting back again. “I want to try something. Let me cook you dinner.”

“Ah?... Oh... Yes, I see. That could be intriguing.” Aziraphale’s gaze turned fond. “You’re brilliant and I adore you.”

“Yes, I know.” said Crowley leaning over for a kiss. “Could you fetch us a couple bottles of wine?” He paused, closing his eyes and tilting his head back and forth. “Cava to start, then a smoky red. Mind if I get dressed? Cooking naked isn’t as fun as anyone would like it to be.”

“Of course. Go ahead. I’ll look forward to taking you back out of it again later.”

_Feel my fingers trace your shirt collar._

Crowley’s eyes lost focus and he swayed. “Keep doing that and you’ll never get dinner angel.”

“Forgive me,” said Aziraphale unrepentantly “I’ll let you cook in peace.”

Crowley attempted to balance his attention, unfocusing in the way that seemed to best link him instinctively rather than consciously to Aziraphale’s desire, while still maintaining enough concentration to chop vegetables and all that.

As Crowley cooked, Aziraphale opened the first bottle of wine and poured them each a glass. They tried chatting, but found that Crowley couldn’t maintain the thread of the conversation with his attention already divided.

So Aziraphale sat and sipped wine and watched Crowley cook. Every so often, he’d pause like he’d done when choosing the wine. Then he would pull an ingredient out of the air, or add a bit more of some seasoning or other. The end result was a bright ceviche and a luxurious paella.

Once the food was prepared, they switched roles. Crowley sat and sipped his wine, eating just a few bites while watching Aziraphale. That his angel had appetites was always fascinating, but his sense of Aziraphale’s desires gave it new dimensions. He could feel the overall sense of hunger being sated. He felt the anticipation before the first bite of each dish, followed by delighted fulfillment. Each bite of food, or sip of wine carried its own pinprick of desire and gratification. They ate in relative silence, Aziraphale focusing on each bite and contentedly watching Crowley sense his response.

They finished the wine while doing the dishes. A grounding, domestic, mortal act. As Crowley was folding the dish towel, he simultaneously felt and heard.

_Come to bed  
_“Come to bed.”

His breath caught and the world lost focus again as he followed Aziraphale into the bedroom.

Aziraphale desired that he stand still, overcome by lust, to be undressed and so he did.

Aziraphale desired that he sit, just there, while Aziraphale undressed and knelt between his legs, and so he did.

Some of the haze of desire and lust retreated as Aziraphale began kissing his way up Crowley’s thigh. And after a moment, Crowley realized that Aziraphale was recreating what Crowley had done that morning. Each kiss and bite, the warm breath against his cock, more kisses down the opposite thigh.

He thought he was ready for it when Aziraphale sat back and licked his lips, but it undid him. He whimpered with need and clutched fistfuls of bedding.

Aziraphale smiled lazily, then pressed his lips to Crowley’s thigh and began making slow (_curse it angel, get on with it_) progress to Crowley’s cock. When Aziraphale’s lips reached the tip. Crowley, hands on his knees for support, manifested his wings. He wrapped them around Aziraphale in a guardian angel’s sheltering embrace, ebony wings notwithstanding, as Aziraphale swallowed him down.

“Please angel, please…” he begged, already knowing where this was headed, what Aziraphale wanted. Knew it wouldn’t and wasn’t intended to satisfy. He let himself get close, to shudder with his own desire as he felt waves of Aziraphale’s. When Aziraphale put his hands on Crowley’s hips to keep him still he almost lost control, wings shuddering, whimpering on the edge.

Aziraphale sat back abruptly and Crowley clenched his teeth around the neediest sound he’d ever heard escape his throat.

Aziraphale reached up into Crowley’s hair and pulled him into a deep kiss.

_Keep your wings out_

Aziraphale climbed onto the bed and lay on his back.

_Come here_

_Let me fuck you_

Crowley stole a kiss, then another as he positioned himself over Aziraphale’s cock. Felt a familiar, intimate miracle, and slid down and filled himself with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale rolled his hips and grasped Crowley’s cock. Crowley dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s sides, and beat his wings against the air once before he could stop himself. He knew neither of them would last very long.

In moments, he was reduced to a babble of pleading need while Aziraphale murmured possessive praise. Crowley was the most desirable being in all of creation, in all of time, and Crowley was _his_.

“Please angel…”

_Come for me_

_Come with me_

“Mine.”

Engulfed in Aziraphale’s desire and his own, Crowley came with a shout that Aziraphale echoed just a moment later. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s wings flicker in and out of reality.

The weight of his own wings pulling him down, he collapsed onto Aziraphale, who wrapped his arms around him, and held him close.

_Make yourself comfortable, I don’t want to let go_

Crowley shifted minutely, and buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck. He could feel Aziraphale’s satisfaction thrumming through him.

Aziraphale massaged down his back slowly, from shoulders to hips on the outside of Crowley’s wings, then back up as far as he could reach between the wings. Crowley made encouraging noises and didn’t move. Eventually, he put his wings away and Aziraphale massaged the rest of the way up between his shoulders. When he reached the spot where he’d drawn the sigil, he paused, then began the gesture that would remove it.

Crowley shifted his shoulders, evading the touch. “Leave it for a bit longer angel?”

“If you wish,” Aziraphale simply rested his hand between Crowley’s shoulder blades. “I’m so grateful you indulged me today.”

“Mmm. Me too. No regrets.” purred Crowley, utterly sated. “I can’t imagine having a better time if you’d reversed things and drawn it on yours…”

_Shift to the side, like this_

Crowley adjusted his position and watched as Aziraphale, smiling radiantly, touched his fingers to the center of his own chest, right above his heart. The sigil inscribed there glowed momentarily.

“אֲנִי לְדוֹדִי וְדוֹדִי אֲנִי”* Aziraphale whispered.

_*Ani L'Dodi, v'Dodi Li, I am my beloved’s and he is mine.  
_Song of Songs Ch 6 V 3

**Author's Note:**

> This is what a mantling bird of prey looks like: <https://www.thespruce.com/mantling-how-raptors-eat-386844>


End file.
